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Personal Note:

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Poem

With the hot summer sun beating down,
leaving blisters on our necks and back.
Walking through those swift murky currents,
just you‘n me, and a gunny sack.

Dipping our heads below the surface,
searching for a fish’s hidden den.
With nimble fingers probing into holes,
hoping to find the catfish within.

Perhaps a green and slick-skinned bullhead,
maybe a flathead or channel cat.
Can't waste any time on carp or drum,
or some other junky fish like that.

One hand slowly slides into the hole,
until it latches on to something.
You hope it's a fish and nothing else,
that might decide to bite, claw, or sting.

I know all about them noodling tales,
and that how a few of them are right.
Like them snapping turtles so dern big,
could take my hand off with just one bite.

Or them spear nosed alligator gars, 
with needle teeth all along their snout.
Or fish nearly as long as a man,
that can drown you without any doubt.
 
While poking around under some rocks,
just might be where a cotton mouth hides.
So you never go noodlin’ alone,
always have a good friend by your side.

Heard ‘bout a boy crawled into a hole,
to put his rope through a fish's gill.
They found his head two miles down the creek,
and they’re looking for his body still.

If it sounds a little dangerous,
on that I certainly will confirm.
But you know them big grandaddy fish,
ain't gonna bite on no itty-bitty worm.

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